


The Deep End

by imaginationrunsfree



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Mention of Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-17 08:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11847777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationrunsfree/pseuds/imaginationrunsfree
Summary: Based on the events that occur in the show, S7E6. If you have not watched it yet, please wait to read this as I don't want to spoil anything for you.Explores that fateful conversation between Daenerys and Jon on the boat and where they go from there.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own GoT or any of ASoIF, that all belongs to George R Martin. I just am in love with his characters and their portrayal on the show by Emilia and Kit.
> 
> WARNING: THIS IS SUPER DUPER MAJOR SPOILERS if you have not seen Game of Thrones Season 7x06 Eastwatch. This is literally starting from the ending scene so please DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED.
> 
> This story is a bit of a different style for me, as I'm writing 3rd person but from two different perspectives, so please, leave me feedback and let me know what you think.
> 
> This is for all the Jonerys shippers out there.

_The Deep End_

Jon woke slowly, groggy and bleary eyed from sleep. Sun shone in through the squared windows of the Targaryen ship, casting a soft glow upon the room. A blurry silver haired figure sat to his right, perched snuggly against his fur covered legs. As the woman came into focus, the past two days events flooded his brain and overwhelmed him with sorrow.

More brave, strong men lost to the walkers all to get one wight. One writhing, half dead body to convince Cersei to put aside her petty power struggle and face the task at hand. They had succeeded, but at what cost? Thoros was dead, which meant Beric was on his last life. Tormund had almost been eaten alive, in fact, the entirety of their band of men would have, if Daenerys and her dragons hadn't shown up.  _Gods, Viserion. How the others has screamed when he was hit. How the blood had poured from his body as he fell from the sky to his watery grave._

Jon studied the woman before him. Her silver hair streamed down past her shoulders, the majority of it tucked away into intricate braids at the back of her head. Free now from her white and grey snow garments, she was clad in a dress more accustomed to her usual style. Deep navy silk embroidered with black swirls made up the bodice, her sleeves and underskirts a soft, deep brown leather. Her usual calm and collected composure had vanished, replaced with something else that Jon couldn't quite identify. Her eyes were red rimmed and cheeks puffy. It was clear she has been crying for some time.  _Had she been by his bed this whole time? Surely not._

She released a small sigh of gratefulness upon seeing him wake.  _He's alright._ She thought. He has been asleep for more than a day now. While she understood that the process of freeing the ice from is veins was not a quick one, he has barely stirred since they had brought him into her chambers. While for modesty's sake she had taken another room, she had barely even used it, worried that he might wake and not find her there. It was silly, she knew, but after what happened, after how they had left, she needed him to know.

"I'm sorry." He said. "I'm so, so sorry." It was the best he could do, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Nothing could bring Viserion back. How could he ever erase such pain from her?

Daenerys shook her head slightly as a fresh wave of tears over took her. She fought them bravely, managing to keep them at bay this time. Biting her lip she sniffed, looking away from the man she loved, knowing it would only make it harder. To her surprise, his hand entwined with hers, his flesh cool and smooth against her warm palm.

"I wish I could take it back. I wish we'd never gone."

She shook her head once more. "I don't."

Such apologies were not his to make. It wasn't his fault and she knew it. As much as the pain of the whole ordeal demanded to be heard, blame was not going to make it go away. He had done what was necessary, they both had. The threat was real and there was no escaping it.

Giving his hand one more squeeze, she composed herself and continued. "If we hadn't have gone, I wouldn't have seen. You have to see to know. Now, I know." Jon looked at her patiently, giving her time to explain. "The dragons are my children.." she began, emotion choking her once more. "..they're the only children I'll ever have. Do you understand?"

Jon's dark eyes roamed down, unable to hold contact with hers any longer. He wasn't giving much away, but the small nod of his head was enough for Dany. Whatever this was between them couldn't continue if he did not understand. She could never give him the children he deserved. He would never hold their baby girl in his arms, or bounce a cherub cheeked boy on his knee. It was a joy robbed from her along with her last love, a burden she was forced to bear the rest of her life. She could not offer such false promises of happiness to him, but she could offer her armies, her allegiances and her power.

"We are going to destroy the Night King and his army." she said fiercely. "We will do it together."Satisfied, she added softly, "You have my word."

Jon swallowed thickly, in awe of the woman before him. How could a bastard like him express what this meant to him, to his people? "Thank you, Dany." he tried, softening his pleasantries with an attempt at a nickname. He wasn't sure how she would take sure informality, but  _your Grace_  just didn't seem to fit what he felt was such an intimate moment. Thankfully, she chuckled at the name, her silken curls swaying gently, catching the rays of sun glinting in.

"Dany...who was the last person who called me that? I'm not sure. Was it my brother?" she wondered aloud. "Mmm, not the kind of company you want to keep."

"Alright, not Dany." He paused at the small smile that seemed to tug at the corner of her mouth. He thought of what she had said in the dragonglass cave on the beach, about his pride. He thought about what Tormund had said about Mance on their journey beyond the wall. They had been right. His pride and mistrust for other rulers had gotten in the way. This woman was a true Queen, and deserved every ounce of love and devotion her people gave her. He had seen glimpses of it during his time on Dragonstone, but it was the moment she had shown up beyond the wall, risking her life and her dragons, for them, that he knew. She was the one. "How about, my Queen?"

Daenerys looked at him in disbelief. Was he...?

"I'd ahh, bend the knee, but.." he gestured with chin at his current state. While was much warmer, the frost and ice of the North still plagued his bones, making it hard to move much.

"What about those who pledged allegiance to you? "

"They will come to see you for what you are."

Overcome once more, Dany took his hand in her own, her expressive brows giving way to what she was feeling. She had insisted for so long that he bend the knee and he had refused. He has risked everything, trusted her, basically a stranger, for the good of his people. She has given him everything he wanted and needed, he has absolutely no need to bend the knee now, and yet, he had.  _Gods, this man._  She thought.  _How can he be? So stubborn and proud, yet so beautiful, gentle and kind._

Her grip tightened in his, wanting desperately to be closer, but not quite ready to take such a leap. She felt raw, open and vulnerable, like the scars on his chest. It has been a long time since she had felt anything remotely close this. For so long she has had to be strong; a fierce leader, unbroken, the mother of dragons. Such rigidity wore on her now, self doubt beginning to creep in. Was she truly worthy of such love? Such respect and admiration, especially from a man like Jon Snow? Mustering up her strength she shared with him her fears. "I hope I deserve it."

He gazed at her lovingly, assuring her. "You do."

She studied him once more, letting his words sink in. He was pale, his natural colour having not quite returned yet. His creamy skin was off set up the raven black of his hair, tight curls resting haphazardly against his bearded face. When she'd first laid eyes on him she would have never thought that he would mean quite so much to her. That he would bring forth a part of her she once thought was long dead.

_Now's not the time_  she told herself, attempting to extricate her hand from his. Her fingers brushed against his, but he tightened before she could let go, drawing her back in, back to him. She studied their joined hands with heavily lidded eyes, let her mind run away with fancy ideas of love and happiness together. Daringly, she lifted her gaze to look into his. She had expected to see comfort, sympathy perhaps, but not this. She has never thought such eyes; so dark brown they were like pools of molten chocolate, could hold so much meaning, so much  _love._

Jon poured everything he was feeling into that look. He was tired of this game, the niceties they had been playing. He hadn't known her long, but he knew what he felt was real, was true. He knew she felt it too. Try as she might to hide it, her eyes, so expressive, so vibrant and bright, gave her away. The way she had looked at him in the light of the torch in the cave. Her reaction when he said he was going to lead the party beyond the wall at Eastwatch. The look she had given him on the back of Drogon as the walkers attacked from all sides. She loved him, he knew.

During the course of her life, many men had fallen in love with her. She had grown used to a certain amount of affection from them. Jorah, Daario, even her Khal, had all looked upon her like she was a trophy to be won, a prize winning mare to show off at the stables. Jon Snow was different. His looked at her like she was a goddess, something he was undeserving of. Strong, powerful, cunning and beautiful.  _My Queen_  he had said. Not just THE Queen, but his.

Daenerys felt her heart swell at such thoughts, but her mind betrayed her. There was still too much at stake to be playing with matters of the heart. They had to be focused if they were to defeat the Night King. Besides, such love, such compassion, such depth of feeling could make her weak. She was in bits when she thought she had lost him, and that was before they had even had this conversation. What would come of her if they proceeded? If she took him into her bed, into her heart, only to lose him for good?

Such thoughts terrified her, causing her to release his grip once more, breathing unsteadily as she attempted to calm her racing heart. "You should get some rest." she managed, not meaning a word of it.

She watched as his gaze fell. He grunted softly as he readjusted himself on the bed, preparing for sleep. She could have sworn she saw him silently curse his boldness, for pushing too far too fast, but it was gone before she could be sure. He closed his eyes, feigning at least an attempt at doing as he was told. She struggled for air, not wanting to leave him but knowing she should. She managed to get on her feet, her breath whooshing in and out quickly as she tried to keep herself up right. Unsteadily, she stepped away from him, her arm clutching her belly and she breathed deeply once more.  _Why was this so hard? Why did it feel like she was rejecting him?_

_Because you are_  whispered another voice in her head as she exited the tiny cabin, shutting the door softly. She bowed her head against the rough wood, praying she hadn't thrown away her only chance to be with him.


	2. Some sage advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much for all those who reviewed, followed and favourited after the first chapter. It means the world to me.
> 
> Now that the context has been set for this next step in the relationship, we are veering from what has happened in the show (I'm assuming cause nothing else it out yet) and into what I'm hoping will develop. I'm not sure whether I'm going to take this story down the more adult route, as tumblr is awash with theories of #boatsex, but I ain't gonna lie, that would be amazing for these two.
> 
> For now, we have Daenerys tackling her feelings for Jon on a more introspective level as well as dealing with a bit of confrontation from Tyrion. I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously.

_The Deep End - Chapter 2_

Several days had passed since last speaking with Jon and Daenerys was having trouble keeping their conversation from her mind. The journey from Eastwatch back to Dragonstone had been relatively short and uneventful, and she had been quick to resume her duties upon arrival. After hearing how about the events beyond the Wall, Tyrion had been hesitant to discuss strategy so soon, but the Queen's fierce determination had seem to double and one did not get in the way of such fire.

Daenerys stood in the War room of Dragonstone, her fingers delicately tracing the magnificently carved table. She examined the smooth surface of the hills and valleys, the jagged edges of the riverbeds and mountains, her pointer finger gently tracing the winding roads of Westeros until she came upon the Stark wolfs head, this one unique from the others. Made of white bone, much like the pommel of Jon's sword, it stood next her three headed Dragon, hovering over the island of Dragonstone. She clutched it closely, her thumb feeling the prick of the tiny teeth carved into the edges of the direwolf mouth. Though barely bigger than her palm, the statuette was fierce in its appearance, yet held a quiet regality, much like the man it represented. Sighing, she placed it once more upon the table, gathering her silver chalice and taking a deep sip of the crimson Dornish wine. She strolled passed the high backed, ornate chairs, beyond the massive stone dragon head etched into the wall, and settled in front of the balcony that overlooked the island's coastal landscape. Taking another sip of wine, she let the cool ocean breeze calm her reddening cheeks. She silently hoped one of the two would be able to help her. Either the wine would allow for escape from such dangerous thoughts, or the wind would offer clarity and a sense of peace from the storm that raged within her soul.

It was not meant to feel this bad, to be so hard. Unable to face him, Daenerys had not returned to his cabin aboard the boat, and had avoided his chambers since their return. Fortunately, he was still recovering and was not well enough yet to join them at their small council meetings. She had hoped that throwing herself into the matters at hand would distract her from what was going on inside, but too often she found herself missing snippets of conversation, unable to follow what Tyrion or Varys were suggesting. She knew her Hand was worried, he had made that very clear on multiple occasions, but she had done well to fend him off. The death of Viserion still weighed heavily upon her, and it was enough to keep unwanted prying at bay for now.

Sighing, she drained the remains of her cup, walking back to the hearth to refill it once more. It was unlike her to drink so much. She had eaten very little today, a small plate of fruit and unleavened bread to break her fast and some cold chicken and cheese some hours ago, upon the instance of Missandei, who had been watching her Khaleesi closely. She closed her eyes as the liquid warmed her belly, dulling her senses to a soft fuzz.

As she returned to her previous position on the balcony, there came a soft knock upon the door, followed by the unmistakable footsteps of her Hand. "Surely by now you know how a door works? One does not enter unless called in." she said coolly.

"Forgive me your Grace, but I felt it was important to speak with you."

She turned and eyed him up, his short stature remaining rigid, as if poised to bear an oncoming attack. His hands told another story however, his fingers nervously spinning the lion head ring upon his thumb. His eyes studied hers from behind his curtain of golden curls, noting the glass in her hand and the half empty flagon upon the table. "Well? What is it?" she asked, impatience clear in her voice. She was tired, and didn't have the energy to go through another of Tyrion's suggestions on how to trap Cersei.

"What happened between you and Jon Snow?" he asked, stepping farther into the room to see her better. Her eyes widened at the bluntness of the question before narrowing, the usual deep blue of her gaze now taking on a grey, steal like hue.

"What are you getting at Tyrion?" she asked, her tone as sharp as a Valerian steal.

Knowing he was treading on a very thin line, Tyrion paused a moment, reconsidering his initial approach. Gathering his courage, he continued. "He keeps asking for you. Asking if you're alright. I know I was not there when you went beyond the wall, but I know enough. You lost one of your dragons, your children, and you almost lost him. I told you before how he sees you. Those longing glances of his are not just for political purpose and, I believe he is not alone in his affections. A woman such as yourself does not go riding off with three dragons in tow just to save any old man. " Daenerys' stature softened, but she kept her eyes upon the navy and grey sea that sloshed against the rocks below her.

"If I am wrong, which we both know I can be from time to time, then I beg you your Grace, show the poor man some mercy. You have agreed to fight alongside him against the White Walkers and we are negotiating temporary peace with Cersei. That is all it needs to be. Better men than me have fallen for you and worship all that you stand for, but Jon Snow is not like other men. He deserves more."

She knew he was right, he usually was. She had picked him to be her Hand for such reasons. It wasn't fair to Jon, not after he had looked at her like that, after he had risked his life for their cause. She needed to take a stand, one way or another, no matter how much the thought terrified her.

She gripped the rails of the balcony nervously, uttering the next words barely above a whisper. "And what if you are right? What if I do feel the same for him? What will you have me do then?"

Tyrion smiled softly, doing his best to sound reassuring. "Then we seize such an opportunity and use it to our advantage."

Curious at his meaning, she arched a dark brow, finally turning towards him, opening herself to his suggestion. His smile grew beneath his beard, satisfied that he had seemed to bridge some sort of gap between them. Their time together had been spent mostly on political strategy and the managing of her Kingdoms in the East. It was rare they discussed such, personal matters. " He is the King in North, and you, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. You want the Iron Throne and the only two sides standing in your way are Cersei and the North. Once the Walkers are gone and things have settled down, where do you think allegiances will fall?"

"Jon would never side with Cersei." she almost snapped, surprised at her conviction on the matter.

Tyrion nodded. "I agree. You'd have to be just as mad as she is to do so. Jon would never betray his people, but the same is not so certain about his men. Like you, he has a loyal following, but this was not always the case." She thought of the scars that marred his chest. The flesh deep red, puckered where the blades had entered his body, forever reminding him of the betrayal he once faced. "Marry Jon and legitimize his name and position in the North. Solidify your promise with a maester's words and a simple ceremony."

"How would marriage solve such a dilemma?"

"Offer the North a sense of independence, or sort of co-regency. You would be the Queen in name and power, but he would sit beside you, as King and Warden of the North. Your union would unite the Kingdom and placate the Northerner's pride. They would still have a man they trust upon the throne, to guide and to rule, not some foreign monarch they know or care little about."

His words were harsh, but he spoke with great logic. Jon had said as much. Before he was willing to bend the knee he had made it very clear that the North remembers, and winning their allegiances would not be easy. He had assured her that they would come to see her for what she truly was, but perhaps, their union would help such a transition take place. She had seen how few men bowed to her after her speech at Blackwater Reach. The people of Westeros wanted more from their monarch, but were skeptical such possibility existed. While her pride wanted the throne for herself, she knew Jon would make a wise and just partner. Their added feelings for one another would only serve to sweeten the deal.

"Very well. How do you propose we set up such an arrangement?"

"Leave that to me your Grace. You have more important matters to attend to."

She looked at the imp, confused. "Such as?"

"Convincing the bastard King that you do indeed, love him." he replied, giving her a knowing look.

She shot him a dirty look, but it was all play. He grinned devilishly before taking is exit, leaving the young Queen to contemplate her own strategy.

_How in the hell was she going to do that?_


	3. Not as easy as one thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yah, not going to lie, I have super mixed feeling about this chapter. I hope I was able to capture Davos well enough, as I didn't take the time to study his speech patterns with Jon like I did Tyrion and Dany. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading reviewing, following and/or favouriting this story. It has been a major ego boost when I needed it the most. 
> 
> Pleas let me know what you think.

_The Deep End - Chapter 3_

Daenerys paced nervously up and down the stone corridor, her thumb fiddling with her fingers as she walked. She had been doing so for some time now, how long she was unsure. She kept going through what she wanted to say in her mind, like a athlete studying their playbook. Tyrion had left her a good hour or so ago to plan her and Jon's wedding and in all honesty, she was freaking out. Her emotions regarding the situation were overwhelming and now she was expected to convince Jon to go along with such a union when she had barely spoken to the man in days. Her mind kept flashing back to the look he had given her after he had conceded. His grip had been firm, yet soft, creating a sort of force field that drew her into him, getting lost in those dark brown eyes of his. He had been so earnest and raw, without actually saying the words, and she cursed him for it. For someone who came off as guarded, perhaps even a bit arrogant, he sure knew how to express himself when it counted. Now, it was her turn and she was desperate for things to work out.

She paused, hand reaching hesitantly towards the smooth iron handle of the door that led into his chambers.  _Would he even want to see me after how I've treated him? Yes, of course he will. After all, Tyrion said he'd been asking for me._ Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and opened the door, forgetting entirely to knock. She flounced into the room, ready to launch into her prepared speech only to stop immediately in her tracks. Her usually pale as milk skin turned a bright, cheery red as a mix of embarrassment and desire flooded her being. It seems Jon was now well enough to be out of bed, as he was standing with his back to her, pulling on his breeches, his bare bottom on full display. Hand still on the doorknob, she debated backing out of the room before he noticed, but by the time she had cleared the image of what else lay under the cloth, he was already speaking.

"Davos? Have you any..." he began, turning and fully expecting to see his Hand of the King at his door. Upon seeing Daenerys instead, it was Jon's turn to be embarrassed. "I...your Grace, I'm..forgive me." he mumbled, reaching for his shirt in an attempt to make himself more presentable.

"Don't..." said Dany, before she could think better of it. He looked back at her in shock, his hand still gripping the cotton tunic, but not drawing it any nearer. Impossibly, her already scarlet skin turned an even deeper red. "I'm mean...it's alright. I've seen men naked before, I'm sure you won't be the last. Don't feel the need to cover for the sake of my innocence." she said, attempting to to sound unaffected. Perhaps she had played it a bit too cool however, as Jon now held a rather dark look on his face.

He turned away from her, slipping the garment above his head and across his chest, shielding himself from her gaze.  _Excellent work Dany. You are supposed to be convincing this man you love him and you've just gone and implied that you want to see other men naked._

Keeping his back to her as he laced his breeches he asked her the rather obvious question. "Excuse me your Grace, but for what do I owe the pleasure?" the sentence itself sounded rather charming, but the edge in his tone spoke volumes.

"Jon..I.." she began, watching him stiffen at the use of his name rather than his title. She sighed, this was all getting out of hand far too quickly. "Do you...have any wine?"

Surprised once more, Jon turned to eye the young queen before him. He gestured to the table in the corner which held two glasses and a jug of pewter filled with deep, golden liquid. He studied her as she all but ran towards the drink, noting how her hand seemed to shake and how her teeth chewed at her bottom lip. She was clothed in a gown of dark purple, the shoulders pointed in their usual style, her three headed silver dragon broach holding a cloak of shimmering black across her back. Her silver hair lay in curls down her spine, arranged in only a few small braids along her skull. While normally artfully arranged, her curls seemed bent and misshapen, almost as if someone had been tugging on them.  _It seems Tyrion has been rubbing off on her in more ways than one._ He thought as he observed her gulping down a hearty amount of sweet, Dornish white.

It had been days since he had any contact with her and now to have her in front of him he was unsure what to do with her. When she had left him, rather unsteadily, back on the boat, he was sure he had blown it; pushed too far. He had been so certain that she felt the same way. He had hoped to explain himself, apologise maybe, but she had never returned. She had left him there, bruised and unable to go after her, cursing himself and his foolish notions of love. Now here she stood, all shaky and uncertain.  _What was it she wanted to tell him? What had her on edge so?_

Understanding that this was unlikely to be a short conversation, Jon lowered himself slowly back onto the bed, grunting softly as he did so. He did his best to arrange himself against the headboard, nestling a soft pillow between his back and the sturdy oak. Sighing, he allowed the uncomfortable throbbing in his body to simmer to a low ache, doing his best to ease the stiffness in his limbs.

Daenerys watched him, concern in her eyes. She had realized that he was still recovering, but she hadn't expected to see him so openly display his discomfort. As he leaned carefully forward to grab the blanket, she rushed over and did it herself, grasping the worn material and tucking it gingerly at his waist. She then rearranged the furs that lay at his feet, smoothing the ruffled fox until it lay flat.

He watched her as she did this, his face softening at the sight. A silver tendril of hair dropped over her shoulder as she neatened the blankets and the afternoon sun cast a soft glow upon her skin. She looked radiant.  _This woman will be the death of me._  He thought _._ "Daenerys" he said, barely above a whisper.

Her cerulean eyes flicked up to his face, her hands pausing at their task. He gestured to the edge of his bed, inviting her to sit, which she did.

_Right back where we started._  she thought. He was impossibly close to her this way and she could feel the heat of his body radiating through the blankets. His hand was mere centimetres away from her own and she felt the urge to grasp it once more. Denying herself such pleasure, she brought them into her lap, grasping the rich fabric of her dress instead.

After a moment of silence, Jon could not wait any longer. It was clear Daenerys was distraught, and he could surmise the reason well enough. Now was his chance and he could not blow it. The future of his people, of all of them, relied upon it. While it would be difficult to conceal his feelings for her, if it meant keeping a valuable ally for the wars to come, then he would. He wasn't going to let something as trivial as his feelings get in the way.

"I feel I need to apologise your Grace. After our journey beyond the wall I was...weakened, and I think I may have over stepped by bounds. We both have a responsibility to our people and we do not have time for such things. "

She looked at him with sad eyes. The apology was supposed to fix things, ease her burden, not make her sad.  _You know nothing Jon Snow_  echoed in his mind, sounding suspiciously like his former red headed wilding lover.

"I'm sorry you feel this way my lord. I fear you will not enjoy the news I bring you."

Jon looked at her in confusion, interest peaked.

"We are to be married in a fortnight. I have spoken with Tyrion and we feel such a union would offer advantages for both our sides. I elected to tell you the news myself, given our...more personal connection. I had hoped..." she started, her eyes seemingly growing sadder. She paused, using the back of her knuckle to wipe a stray tear forming at the corner of her eye. Breathing deeply, she continued. "I had hoped it would be more than a political marriage, but I see such thoughts were foolish."

It took every ounce of effort Dany had to not burst into tears right then and there. Everything had gone completely wrong and she felt like a complete idiot.  _Foolish girl, thinking he was in love with you. How had he described it? Ah yes, a weakness. Your love is nothing but a disadvantage to his cause._ She felt her throat catch and she could take it not longer.

"Forgive me." she murmured, dashing away from him, tears now falling steadily down her rosen cheeks.

"Daenerys, wait!" he called, but it was too late, she was already out the door; her hasty exit punctuated by the slam of the oak slab into its socket. Her words bounced about in his head, like gnats on a summers day, pestering him to the point of annoyance.  _We are to be married...personal connection...I had hoped...more than a political marriage..._  "You idiot!" he roared, throwing her discarded cup across the room, watching as it crashed against the stone and spilled the remaining liquid onto the floor.

"Your Grace?" enquired the voice of his Hand, Sir Davos Seaworth, who stood hesitantly in the doorway.

"Come in Davos" Jon sighed. He ran a hand over his face, attempting to clear it of tension.

"I take the news of your upcoming nuptials didn't go over well."

Jon huffed. "You could say that."

Eyeing his sire carefully, Davos treaded lightly with his next question. "Can I ask your Grace, how do you feel about the whole thing? Do you agree with this decision? I'm no high born, but I think I could convince Tyrion well enough to call it off if you didn't approve."

Jon smiled at the thought. He had a good man at his side. No question. "No need Davos. I agree. They have a point, it does make logical sense. There is a lot of benefit in our two kingdoms coming together."

"Then why the long face?" Jon laughed darkly, shaking his head. Davos watched as Jon's dark curls, usually in a neat bun, swayed back and forth.

"Do you remember that conversation we had out on the walkway? About her good heart?"

"Aye."

"Well, you were right. I have noticed much more than that. She is... indescribably beautiful."

"I'm still confused where the frustration fits into all this." replied Davos, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"She wants more than a political marriage. She came to me, willing to actually give..whatever this is between us a shot, and I blew it. Instead of just letting her speak, I was impatient. I assumed she was rejecting me so I told her I wanted to keep things simple, emotionally unattached. "

"And I suppose in truth, you want the actual opposite of that." finished the older man, nodding in understanding. "Matters of the heart are never easy lad. We make mistakes, we say things we don't mean and then stand there amazed at how quickly the whole thing turns to shite."

"You've been married a long time. You've had many sons, a seemingly happy wife. What do you suggest I do?"

"Talk to her lad. Listen to what she is saying, with her words as well as her body. Women are terrible for telling you one thing when they mean something else. Don't leave anything open for them to guess at. If you love her, tell her. Simple as." Seeing Jon's doubtful expression Davos did his best to be reassuring, giving the man a hearty pat on the knee. "The entire North put their faith in you to make wise decisions. You have proven yourself braver than any other man out there and faced death head on twice now. You may see yourself as a bastard Jon Snow, but the man I see before me is much more than that. You are a King."

Satisfied with his council, Davos left his King in peace, his boots leading him towards his next destination.  _For such capable young leaders, they sure had made a mess of things._

"Ahh Tyrion..." he said, finding the imp sat in front of the fire. "It seems we need to have a chat."


	4. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I know you have been waiting with baited breath for this moment. I apologize for taking so long, but I wanted to make sure I got it right. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. It took a few re-writes and hours of rewatching scenes of GoT, but I think I got their essence right. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. I am happy to leave it here and call this the end, OR write a more intimate scene for them afterwards, either as a separate fic or a fifth chapter. You thoughts on the matter would be amazing. 
> 
> Hopefully this gets you through until Sunday's season finale! xx

_The Deep End - Chapter 4_

The air was cold and filled with the smell of the salty ocean below. Jon pulled his fur cloak tighter as the wind whipped against his cheeks. There was no denying that winter was upon them, and it was only going to get worse. The Northern King made his way carefully down the winding steps of Dragonstone, minding the ocean slicked stone.

He found her where he had hoped, the place where she approved his mining of the dragon glass; the place she had first extended the proverbial olive branch. She stood with her back to him, overlooking the massive cliffs and jagged outcroppings of rock that formed the island of Dragonstone. Her hands rested comfortably along the roughly constructed half wall that lined the narrow and winding pathway. Drogon and Rhaegal flew gracefully in the air, black silhouettes framed by the setting sun. Their cries echoed along the cliffs reminding Jon of Viserion's death beyond the wall. Once again, his heart broke for her, the mother of dragons who had lost a son. He approached her slowly, attempting to break her deep thought and make his presence known.

"You seem to be feeling better." she said, glancing at him from over her shoulder.

"Aye, much better." he replied. Keeping himself still at a distance, unsure where her mind was at.

"Tyrion informs me that our nuptials are still to commence." Jon nodded, confirming such news. She watched his reaction, searching his face for any sign, any scrap of emotion that she could cling on to.  _This is ridiculous_. she thought.  _I'm acting like a little maiden, pining after a decorated knight._ "Have you informed your Northern houses of the arrangement?"

Jon looked away sheepishly, balancing from one foot to the next. "I think Davos has? Or maybe Tyrion. To be honest your Grace, I haven't been as focused of late as I would like."

She sighed. "I can relate" replied Daenerys, turning to face him now. He sensed the invisible wall between them, like a shield protecting a soldier. She was opening up to him, but not without a fight. He was going to have to try harder if he wanted to clear things up.

"I don't like seeing you so." he began. Dany eyed him wearily, unsure if his concern was genuine. The look on his face was plain enough. She sighed once more, her gaze falling somewhere over his shoulder. After a moment of thought, her blue eyes connected with his, showing an unexpected earnesty.

"I really don't know what to make of you Jon Snow. One minute you're every bit a heroic king, stubborn, proud, stupidly brave. Then you bring me into caves and show me wondrous things in the firelight, somehow get Drogon to trust you, avenge the death of dragon by risking your own life...You almost died, again, and the first thing out of your mouth when you woke up was  _I'm sorry._ "

"Daenerys I.." he started.

"Let me finish." she insisted, although it came out more like a plea than a command. He nodded solemnly. Davos had told him to listen and he would. "You lay there, cold and pale as ever, barely recovered, and you comfort  _me._  You hold my hand, you pledge your allegiance, you look at me like that...how you're looking at me right now." Jon blushed, clearing his throat. He hadn't realized how his intense his gaze upon her face was. She waited, letting him have a moment. She was not one to open up often, but she was sick of this pain. She has other matters to attend to, they both did. She needed to move on from this. No man had rejected her before, let alone a man she was meant to marry. She needed to clear things up before things progressed any farther.

Jon may not be very experienced with women, but he could sense where this was going. He hated that he had caused her pain, made her think that he didn't want her. Every fibre of his body was telling him to just show her. To grab her, pull her close and kiss her. Prove to her that she meant the world to him, but he restrained himself from doing so. She needed to get this off her chest. If he owed her that much.

"Many great mean have shown a love for me beyond their loyalty, perhaps I was a fool to think you were one of them. No matter. I am still the Queen and you have sworn your allegiance to me, as I have to you and your cause. I will not prevent our marriage from happening, as I can see the advantages it brings the both of us. I expect some arrangement can be made between the two of us, to help keeps things..civil. However, if this is to be just that, an advantageous match, I ask that..."

He felt his body tense and his fists clench at her words, barely registering them in his brain. He didn't want to wait any longer. The formality of it all, the ridiculousness of this conversation. Jon had never been a man of many words. During his time with The Watch and after, he had learned to lead. To set an example and live by his vows. To fight for what's right and show justice and mercy when needed. He would always let that shape his position as King, but not in matters of the heart. Ygritte had taught him to be passionate. To love deeply and without fear. To embrace it and damn anyone who got in the way. His obedience to the way of things had stopped them from living the life they could have had. Not again.

Before Daenerys could finish, his lips were upon hers. His gloved hands held her tight, their noses brushing and their breath mingling. She tasted of the salt air and something earthier, like smoke and jasmine. He poured everything he had into that kiss, trying to tell her how sorry he was, how much he did care for her. When he was finished, he released her, watching as she stepped away from him. She stared at him hungrily, gasping for air, looking every bit the dragon she was. He waited, unsure how she would react next.

Daenerys took a moment, once again overwhelmed by the man in front of her. Part of her could not believe what had happened. Her entire body was on fire, a passion so hot and fiery it consumed her. She found herself furious with Jon; for playing these games, for making her doubt her judgement, for scaring her half to death as he plunged through the ice. She felt it all, the grief over Viserion, the panic, the utter terror at the sheer size of the undead army, the gravity of the situation that laid before them. All of it was too much to keep inside her.

She quickly closed the gap between them, bringing their lips together once more. She kissed him without mercy, hands roaming his body beneath his cloak, grabbing wherever she could find purchase. She devoured him, letting the fire grow inside her, pouring out all the hurt, anger and sorrow within her. He returned her vigour, tongue dancing with hers, hands pulling her impossibly close and pressing her into the stone. She pulled at his raven locks, freeing them of its usual bun, teeth clacking against his. His left hand reached for her skirts, tugging her leg up. He ran his teeth over her jawbone and neck nipping at her, then kissing the mark away.

Then just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. His kisses turned tender, and he let go of her leg, letting it fall back to the ground. Her hand no longer pulled at his leather jerkin, but had come to cradle his face, fingers brushing delicately along the rough surface of his beard. Their chests heaved and then settled, their eyes closed as they let the ocean breeze cool the heat between them. They remained close, foreheads resting against each others. Eventually, Daenerys spoke.

"That was, unexpected."

Jon grinned, Dany joining him, the couple breaking into laughter.

"I'm sorry. I really am." said Jon. "I don't know how we got things in such a muddle, but I want to make it clear. You are my Queen, my bride, my love. I am yours and you are mine. I want to defeat the White Walkers, defeat Cersei and help you win your throne, together."

Daenerys' smile grew wider and she kissed him lightly once more. "I am yours and you are mine. I like that." She stepped back from him, readjusting her dress and smoothing any hair that had come out of place. "Come now my King, we have work to do. We haven't much time before the Night King comes to the wall and we still need to convince Cersei Lannister to divert her attentions elsewhere for the moment."

Jon nodded, following closely behind her as she descended the platform towards another set of stairs on the southern side.

* * *

Unbeknownst to them, another couple stood, watching the exchange from above. The elder gentleman, grey in hair and beard, stood next to the golden haired imp, the two Hands watching their monarchs proudly. They knew the journey each of their leaders had taken to get here, and they knew the hardships that were to come. While both rulers were brave, capable and strong, they needed each other if they were to survive. In fact, their people depended on it.

"We best get back to it Ser Davos." said Tyrion, looking up at his companion. "We still have much to discuss. Best not to keep the Queen waiting."

"Aye. I have a feeling that if we leave those two alone for too long we won't see either them for week."

Tyrion laughed heartily. "I know Jon Snow is a remarkable man but that kind of stamina is almost enviable."

Davos smiled, shaking his head at the joke and following the imp back up the stairs. To be young and in love, even in these circumstances, was something special in itself. He looked forward to seeing what these two could do.


End file.
